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October 22, 2025

The uneasy history of horror films and disability

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Gwyneth Peaty, Research Fellow, School of Media, Creative Arts and Social Inquiry, Curtin University

Historically, horror films have been popular during times of social upheaval, as they allow audiences to work through collective cultural anxieties by tapping into their greatest fears. And “fear” is often built around ideas of what is “abnormal” – that is, different from socially constructed norms.

Throughout horror film history, disability has often been used as a visual shorthand marking the boundary between normal and abnormal.

Disability has long featured problematically as a metaphor for horror, evil or monstrosity. But a new wave of filmmakers are using horror to reflect on the lived experiences of people with disability.

Obsessive avengers

In horror, people with physical or intellectual disability often feature as villains driven by an obsessive desire for revenge on a world that caused their pain. We see this trope repeated in a number of slasher films from the 1970s and ‘80s, including Halloween (1978), Friday the 13th (1980), A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) and The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974).

Disability film scholar Martin Norden describes this horror archetype as the obsessive avenger:

an egomaniacal sort, almost always a male, who does not rest until he has his revenge on those he holds responsible for his disablement and/or violating his moral code in some other way.

This connection between disability and villainy is no accident. In preparing for his role as Leatherface in The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, actor Gunnar Hansen observed students with intellectual disability at a specialist school, and adopted their mannerisms.

An evolving landscape

Disabled people are speaking out online about how their lives are impacted by harmful stereotypes of disability in the media. And this push for advocacy and awareness has led to shifts in cultural attitudes and film content policies.

In 2018, the British Film Institute announced it would no longer fund films that represent people with facial differences as evil or villainous. This decision was in direct response to the #IAmNotYourVillain campaign run by UK charity Changing Faces.

Under increasing scrutiny, filmmakers have also been called out for using disability as a symbol of horror, evil, or monstrosity.

Warner Bros was forced to apologize in 2020 after Anne Hathaway’s character in The Witches was criticised for stigmatising limb differences. Viewers noticed the resemblance between her “claws” in the film and a real-life genetic condition called ectrodactyly. This led to the #NotAWitch hashtag trending on social media.

Actor Lupita Nyong’o has apologised for using spasmodic dysphonia, a real larynx disorder, as inspiration for her evil doppelganger’s voice in Jordan Peele’s 2019 film Us.

The National Spasmodic Dysphonia Association pointed out:

Spasmodic dysphonia is not a creepy voice; it’s not a scary voice. It’s a disability that people are living with and [they] shouldn’t be judged on.

Also in 2019, director Ari Aster was criticised for using the character of Ruben, a disabled child, for shock value in the horror hit Midsommar. As film critic Emma Madden argued in an article for The Guardian:

In keeping with Aster’s previous film Hereditary, in which physical and mental disability provides a metaphor for trauma and familial dysfunction, the disabled body once again becomes the monstrous body, used to convey a monstrous world.

From monster to hero

Many disabled people are huge fans of horror. The goal of critique is not to destroy monsters, or erase the horror genre, but to reduce its narrative dependence on ableism.

As horror fan Lotto Ramsay points out:

I want to feel horror. I don’t want to be the horror.

Today’s filmmakers are increasingly creating horror stories where the protagonist is disabled – perhaps in response to changing audience expectations and commentary. In doing so, they can interrogate the idea of “normal” in new ways. Some more recent horror films have even framed physical disability as an advantage, such as in Bird Box (2019) and A Quiet Place (2018).

In the slasher film Hush (2016), protagonist Maddie Young (Kate Siegel) is a deaf writer who uses American Sign Language to communicate. Stalked by a vicious killer she can’t hear, Maddie draws the audience into her desperate struggle for survival, encouraging them to identify with a disabled character in a horror context.

Of course, having a disabled protagonist does not guarantee the film will be free from ableism or negative stereotypes. The Advent Calendar (2021), a horror film with a wheelchair user at its centre, falls into old stereotypes by framing disability as something that needs “fixing”.

Just as we can look back on past horror as reflective of outdated attitudes towards race, gender and sexuality, so too does horror reflect the changing social construction of disability.

And this means future horror creators have a chance to tell stories which people with disability can enjoy – rather than feel targeted by.

Katie Ellis receives funding from the Australian Research Council.

Gwyneth Peaty does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. The uneasy history of horror films and disability – https://theconversation.com/the-uneasy-history-of-horror-films-and-disability-263344

October 22, 2025

Lisztomania: why did women go gaga for 19th century pianist Franz Liszt?

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Timothy McKenry, Professor of Music, Australian Catholic University

In 1844, Berlin was struck by a cultural fever critics labelled Lisztomania.

The German poet Heinrich Heine coined the term after witnessing the almost delirious reception that greeted Hungarian pianist and composer Franz Liszt in concert halls across Europe.

One widely circulated drawing from the 1840s crystallises the image. Women swoon or faint, others hurl flowers toward the stage. Men also appear to be struck by the pianist’s magnetic presence (or perhaps by the women’s reaction to it).

Men and women swoon as Liszt plays on stage. — This 1840s drawing captures Lisztomania in action.
Theodor Hosemann/Wikimedia

These caricatured depictions, when paired with antagonistic reviews from contemporary critics, may still shape our cultural memory of Liszt.

He is often depicted not simply as a musician but as the first modern celebrity to unleash mass hysteria.

What happened at Liszt’s concerts?

We know a great deal about Liszt’s hundreds of concerts during the 1830s and ‘40s, thanks to reviews, critiques, lithographs and Liszt’s own letters from the time.

His programs combined works by the great composers with his own inventive reworkings of pieces familiar to audiences. Virtuoso showpieces also demonstrated his command of the piano.

Beethoven’s Appassionata Sonata or Pathétique Sonata might appear alongside Bach’s Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue, performed in Liszt’s highly expressive style.

Schubert was represented through songs such as Erlkönig and Ave Maria, reworked for piano alone.

Liszt also turned to the most popular operatic works of his time. His Réminiscences de Norma (Bellini) and Réminiscences de Don Juan (Mozart) transformed familiar melodies into large-scale fantasies. These demanded both virtuosity and lyrical sensitivity.

In these works, Liszt created symphonic structures on the piano. He wove multiple themes into coherent musical dramas far more than simple medleys of well-known tunes.

Liszt often closed his concerts with the crowd-pleaser Grand Galop Chromatique. This encore demonstrated his showmanship and awareness of audience expectations.

As critic Paul Scudo wrote in 1850:

He is the sovereign master of his piano; he knows all its resources; he makes it speak, moan, cry, and roar under fingers of steel, which distil nervous fluid like Volta’s battery distils electrical fluid.

His audience’s response, it would seem, regularly spilled beyond the conventions of polite concert etiquette and social decorum.

Artist and showman

In a series of 1835 essays titled On the Situation of Artists, Liszt presents musicians such as himself as “tone artists”, condemned to be misunderstood. Nevertheless, they have a profound obligation to “reveal, exalt and deify all the tendencies of human consciousness”.

At the same time, a letter to the novelist George Sand reveals Liszt was acutely aware of the practicalities of concerts and the trappings of celebrity.

He jokes that Sand would be surprised to see his name in capital letters on a Paris concert bill. Liszt admits to the audacity of charging five francs for tickets instead of three, basks in glowing reviews, and notes the presence of aristocrats and high society in his audience.

He even describes his stage draped with flowers, and hints at the female attention following one performance, albeit directed toward his partner in a duet.

This letter shows an artist who is self-aware, sometimes amused, and sometimes ambivalent about the spectacle attached to his art.

Yes, Liszt engaged with his celebrity identity, but clearly also felt a measure of distance from it. He was aware the serious side of his art risked being overshadowed by the gossip-column version.

Much of the music criticism of the time functioned in exactly this way. It was little more than the work of gossip writers, many disgusted by the intensity of audience reactions to Liszt’s performances.

Gossip, poison pens, and the making of Lisztomania

Not everyone shared the enthusiasm of Liszt’s audiences. Some critics attacked both his playing and the adulation it provoked.

In 1842, a writer using the pseudonym Beta described the combined effect of Liszt’s performance and the public’s response, writing that:

the effect of his bizarre, substance-less, idea-less, sensually exciting, contrast-ridden, fragmented playing, and the diseased enthusiasm over it, is a depressing sign of the stupidity, the insensitivity, and the aesthetic emptiness of the public.

Similarly, poet Heinrich Heine suggested Liszt’s performance style was deliberately “stage managed” and designed to provoke audience mania:

For example, when he played a thunderstorm on the fortepiano, we saw the lightning bolts flicker over his face, his limbs shook as if in a gale, and his long tresses seemed to drip, as it were, from the downpour that was represented.

These and other accounts fed the mythology of Lisztomania, portraying women in his audience as irrational and hysterical.

The term mania carried a medicalised, pathologising tone, framing enthusiasm for Liszt as a form of cultural sickness.

Lithographs, caricatures, and anecdotal reports amplified these narratives, showing swooning figures, flowers hurled on stage, and crowds behaving in ways that exceeded polite social convention.

Yet these accounts are not entirely trustworthy; they were shaped by prejudice, moralising assumptions, and a desire to sensationalise.

Liszt’s concerts, therefore, existed at a fascinating intersection: extraordinary artistry and virtuosity, coupled with the theatre of audience reception, all filtered through a lens of gossip, exaggeration and gendered panic.

In this sense, the phenomenon of Lisztomania foreshadows the dynamics of modern celebrity. (It was also the subject of what one critic described as “the most embarrassing historical film ever made”.)

Just as performers like the Beatles, Beyoncé and Taylor Swift provoke intense public devotion while simultaneously facing slander and sensational reporting, Liszt’s fame was inseparable from both admiration and the poison pen of his critics.

Timothy McKenry does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Lisztomania: why did women go gaga for 19th century pianist Franz Liszt? – https://theconversation.com/lisztomania-why-did-women-go-gaga-for-19th-century-pianist-franz-liszt-264889

October 21, 2025

Giant ground sloths’ fossilized teeth reveal their unique roles in the prehistoric ecosystem

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Larisa R. G. DeSantis, Associate Professor of Biological Sciences, Vanderbilt University

Harlan’s ground sloth fossil skeleton excavated and displayed at the La Brea Tar Pits in Los Angeles. Larisa DeSantis

animal hanging from a branch looks upside down at the camera — A two-toed sloth at the Nashville Zoo.
Larisa R. G. DeSantis

Imagine a sloth. You probably picture a medium-size, tree-dwelling creature hanging from a branch. Today’s sloths – commonly featured on children’s backpacks, stationery and lunch boxes – are slow-moving creatures, living inconspicuously in Central American and South American rainforests.

But their gigantic Pleistocene ancestors that inhabited the Americas as far back as 35 million years ago were nothing like the sleepy tree huggers we know today. Giant ground sloths – some weighing thousands of pounds and standing taller than a single-story building – played vital and diverse roles in shaping ecosystems across the Americas, roles that vanished with their loss at the end of the Pleistocene.

In our new study, published in the journal Biology Letters, we aimed to reconstruct the diets of two species of giant ground sloths that lived side by side in what’s now Southern California. We analyzed remains recovered from the La Brea Tar Pits of what are colloquially termed the Shasta ground sloth (Nothrotheriops shastensis) and Harlan’s ground sloth (Paramylodon harlani). Our work sheds light on the lives of these fascinating creatures and the consequences their extinction in Southern California 13,700 years ago has had on ecosystems.

Dentin dental challenges

Studying the diets of extinct animals often feels like putting together a jigsaw puzzle with only a portion of the puzzle pieces. Stable isotope analyses have revolutionized how paleoecologists reconstruct the diets of many ancient organisms. By measuring the relative ratios of light and heavy carbon isotopes in tooth enamel, we can figure out what kinds of foods an animal ate – for instance, grasses versus trees or shrubs.

dental drill in hands near an animal jawbone — Drilling teeth provides a sample for stable isotope analyses.
Aditya Kurre

But the teeth of giant ground sloths lack enamel, the highly inorganic and hard outer layer on most animal teeth – including our own. Instead, sloth teeth are made primarily of dentin, a more porous and organic-rich tissue that readily changes its chemical composition with fossilization.

Stable isotope analyses are less dependable in sloths because dentin’s chemical composition can be altered postmortem, skewing the isotopic signatures.

Another technique researchers use to glean information about an animal’s diet relies on analyzing the microscopic wear patterns on its teeth. Dental microwear texture analysis can infer whether an animal mostly ate tough foods such as leaves and grass or hard foods such as seeds and fruit pits. This technique is also tricky when it comes to sloths’ fossilized teeth because signs of wear may be preserved differently in the softer dentin than in harder enamel.

Prior to studying fossil sloths, we vetted dental microwear methods in modern xenarthrans, a group of animals that includes sloths, armadillos and anteaters. This study demonstrated that dentin microwear can reveal dietary differences between leaf-eating sloths and insect-consuming armadillos, giving us confidence that these tools could reveal dietary information from ground sloth fossils.

Distinct dietary niches revealed

Previous research suggested that giant ground sloths were either grass-eating grazers or leaf-eating browsers, based on the size and shape of their teeth. However, more direct measures of diet – such as stable isotopes or dental microwear – were often lacking.

Our new analyses revealed contrasting dental wear signatures between the two co-occurring ground sloth species. The Harlan’s ground sloth, the larger of the two, had microwear patterns dominated by deep pitlike textures. This kind of wear is indicative of chewing hard, mechanically challenging foods such as tubers, seeds, fungi and fruit pits. Our new evidence aligns with skeletal adaptations that suggest powerful digging abilities, consistent with foraging foods both above and below ground.

diagram of sloth profiles, tooth outline and magnified surface of two bits of the teeth — The fossil teeth of the Harlan’s ground sloth typically showed deeper pitlike textures, bottom, while the Shasta ground sloth teeth had shallower wear patterns, top.
DeSantis and Kurre, Biology Letters 2025

In contrast, the Shasta ground sloth exhibited dental microwear textures more akin to those in leaf-eating and woody plant-eating herbivores. This pattern corroborates previous studies of its fossilized dung, demonstrating a diet rich in desert plants such as yucca, agave and saltbush.

Next we compared the sloths’ microwear textures to those of ungulates such as camels, horses and bison that lived in the same region of Southern California. We confirmed that neither sloth species’ dietary behavior overlapped fully with other herbivores. Giant ground sloths didn’t perform the same ecological functions as the other herbivores that shared their landscape. Instead, both ground sloths partitioned their niches and played complementary ecological roles.

Extinctions brought ecological loss

The Harlan’s ground sloth was a megafaunal ecosystem engineer. It excavated soil and foraged underground, thereby affecting soil structure and nutrient cycling, even dispersing seed and fungal spores over wide areas. Anecdotal evidence suggests that some anachronistic fruits – such as the weird, bumpy-textured and softball-size Osage orange – were dispersed by ancient megafauna such as giant ground sloths. When the Pleistocene megafauna went extinct, the loss contributed to the regional restriction of these plants, since no one was around to spread their seeds.

The broader consequence is clear: Megafaunal extinctions erased critical ecosystem engineers, triggering cascading ecological changes that continue to affect habitat resilience today. Our results resonate with growing evidence that preserving today’s living large herbivores and understanding the diversity of their ecological niches is crucial for conserving functional ecosystems.

Studying the teeth of lost giant ground sloths has illuminated not only their diets but also the enduring ecological legacies of their extinction. Today’s sloths, though charming, only hint at the profound environmental influence of their prehistoric relatives – giants that shaped landscapes in ways we are only beginning to appreciate.

Larisa R. G. DeSantis received funding from the National Science Foundation, the Guggenheim Foundation, and Vanderbilt University. DeSantis is also a research associate at the La Brea Tar Pits and Museum.

Aditya Reddy Kurre received funding from Vanderbilt University.

– ref. Giant ground sloths’ fossilized teeth reveal their unique roles in the prehistoric ecosystem – https://theconversation.com/giant-ground-sloths-fossilized-teeth-reveal-their-unique-roles-in-the-prehistoric-ecosystem-267601

October 21, 2025

Prince Andrew didn’t really give up his titles, and truly removing them would be onerous

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Justin Vovk, Adjunct Professor. History of the Royal Family, Redeemer University

Prince Andrew has announced he will “no longer use my title or the honours which have been conferred upon me.” Translation? Andrew is giving up his Duke of York title.

The decision comes as the Royal Family has faced calls to take action against Andrew over his friendship with Jeffrey Epstein, the notorious convicted sex offender and pedophile who died in prison in 2019.

The late Virginia Giuffre, one of Epstein’s victims, accused Andrew of sexually assaulting her on three occasions when she was 17, allegations he has repeatedly denied. In 2022, she settled a civil lawsuit against him in a Manhattan court for an undisclosed amount and a charitable donation.

PR disaster

Prince Andrew’s public image imploded after his now infamous 2019 interview with BBC’s Newsnight. Speaking to host Emily Maitlis, he presented an incredulous, implausible and, at times, baffling series of denials in an attempt to clear his name of any wrongdoing toward Giuffre when she was underage.

Andrew’s statements during the interview were met with “near universal condemnation” and were a public relations disaster for the prince. He was removed from public duties four days later.

Within a week, he resigned from his role as patron of more than 200 charitable organizations. He was no longer a working member of the Royal Family, but a member he nonetheless remained.

These actions did little to improve public opinion of Andrew or his actions. In June 2020, Newsweek released a poll suggesting almost 60 per cent of Britons felt Andrew should not only be stripped of his titles, but also extradited to the United States to answer for his conduct with Epstein.

A case of déjà vu

The first major step taken by the Royal Family only came in January 2022 once a judge allowed Giuffre’s civil suit to proceed. Andrew was stripped of all his military appointments and honourary positions.

At the same time, Buckingham Palace announced Andrew would no longer be referred to as His Royal Highness. To date, there has been no formal decree stripping Andrew of HRH. It simply disappeared from his name.

That makes his recent announcement to give up his royal titles seem like a case of déjà vu.

Despite appearances to the contrary, he hasn’t actually been renounced or been stripped of those titles or honours. They have simply fallen into dormancy; an inactive limbo. Andrew is still a prince and is still in the line of succession to the British throne, at least for now.

The natural question that many people are now asking is why hasn’t Andrew been formally stripped of these titles? Why is he still a prince? To answer those question, it’s necessary to explain what these titles mean and the process to remove them, which is actually much more complicated than meets the eye.

Andrew’s titles

Let’s start with the prince. As a child of the late Queen Elizabeth, Andrew was born a prince of the United Kingdom. In 1917, King George V issued a royal decree known as Letters Patent. The document stated “that the children of any Sovereign …shall have and at all times hold and enjoy the style title or attribute of Royal Highness with their titular dignity of Prince or Princess.”

There is currently no mechanism for stripping a sovereign’s child of that princely title. But never say never.

In 1986, Queen Elizabeth granted Andrew the titles Duke of York, Earl of Inverness and Baron Killyleagh. These titles are known as peerages.

For centuries, it has been customary for sovereigns to bestow peerages on their sons and heirs. Prince William was made Duke of Cambridge on his wedding day in 2011. Prince Harry was similarly granted the title Duke of Sussex when he married Meghan Markle in 2018.

It has become tradition that certain peerages go to certain members of the Royal Family. Since 1474, for example, the title Duke of York has been bestowed on the sovereign’s second son.

An act of parliament

For nearly 40 years, this title has been synonymous with Prince Andrew. When it was recently announced that he would no longer use his peerage titles, news reports spread like wildfire with headlines declaring he had lost or relinquished his titles. Neither, in fact, has happened.

King Charles can’t simply revoke a peerage once it has been granted. Doing so would require an act of parliament under some pretty extreme circumstances. It has only happened twice in the last two centuries.

In 1798, parliament passed an Act of Attainder (or treason) against Lord Edward Fitzgerald for leading a rebellion in Ireland.

In 1917, parliament passed the Titles Deprivation Act during the First World War. Several German princes held British titles because they descended from Queen Victoria. The act provided parliament with a way to deprive enemy German princes of their “British dignities and titles” for fighting against Britain in the war.

Prince Andrew’s recent announcement has done little to deflect public fury away from him. This week, a group of British parliamentarians presented a motion to take legal steps to officially remove his peerages. As more Epstein revelations come to light, Andrew’s troubles are clearly far from over.

Justin Vovk has previously received funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Council of Canada. He is an advisory board member of the Institute for the Study of the Crown in Canada.

– ref. Prince Andrew didn’t really give up his titles, and truly removing them would be onerous – https://theconversation.com/prince-andrew-didnt-really-give-up-his-titles-and-truly-removing-them-would-be-onerous-267940

October 21, 2025

King, pope, Jedi, Superman: Trump’s social media images exclusively target his base and try to blur political reality

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Andrew Rojecki, Professor of Communication, University of Illinois Chicago

Two Instagram images put out by the White House. White House Instagram

A grim-faced President Donald J. Trump looks out at the reader,
under the headline “LAW AND ORDER.” Graffiti pictured in the corner of the White House Facebook post reads “Death to ICE.” Beneath that, a photo of protesters, choking on tear gas. And underneath it all, a smaller headline: “President Trump Deploys 2,000 National Guard After ICE Agents Attacked, No Mercy for Lawless Riots and Looters.”

The official communication from the White House appeared on Facebook in June 2025, after Trump sent in troops to quell protests against Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents in Los Angeles. Visually, it is melodramatic, almost campy, resembling a TV promotion.

A Facebook post with the words 'Law and Order' at the top, a photo of President Trump and messages about ICE. — A June 2025 Facebook post from the White House.
White House Facebook account

The post is not an outlier.

In the Trump administration, White House social media posts often blur the lines between politics and entertainment, and between reality and illusion.

The White House has released AI images of Trump as the pope, as Superman and as a Star Wars Jedi, ready to do battle with “Radical Left Lunatics” who would bring “Murderers, Drug Lords … & well-known MS-13 Gang Members” into the country.

Most recently, on the weekend of the No Kings protests, both Trump and the White House released a video of the president wearing a crown and piloting a fighter jet, from which he dispenses feces onto a crowd of protesters below.

Underpinning it all is a calculated political strategy: an appeal to Trump’s political base – largely white, working-class, rural or small-town, evangelical and culturally conservative.

As scholars who study communication in politics and the media, we believe the White House’s rhetoric and style is part of a broader global change often found in countries experiencing increased polarization and democratic backsliding.

Trump posted a video on the weekend of the No Kings protests of him dropping feces on a crowd of protesters.

White House style

In the past, national leaders generally favored a professional tone, whether on social or traditional media. Their language was neutral and polished, laced with political jargon.

While populist political communication has become more common along with the proliferation of social media, the communication norms are further altered in Trump White House social media posts.

They are partisan, theatrical and exaggerated. Their tone is almost circuslike. The process of governing is portrayed as a reality TV show, in which political roles are performed with little regard for real-world consequences. Vivid color schemes and stylized imagery convert political messaging into visual spectacle. The language is colloquial, down-to-earth.

Just as other influencers in a variety of domains might create an emotional bond by tailoring social media messages, content, products and services to the needs and likes of individual customers, the White House tailors its content to the beliefs, language and worldview of Trump’s political base.

In doing so, the White House echoes a broad, growing trend in political communication, portraying Trump as “a champion of the people” and using direct and informal communication that appeals to fear and resentment.

Trump White House social media makes no effort to promote social unity or constructive dialogue, or reduce polarization – and often heightens it. Undocumented immigrants, for example, are often portrayed as inherently evil. White House social media amplifies dramatic, emotionally charged content.

In one video, Trump recites a poem about a kind woman who takes in a snake, a stand-in for an immigrant who in reality is a dangerous serpent. “Instead of saying thanks, that snake gave her a vicious bite,” Trump recites.

Talking to the base

While some scholars have called the White House social media style “amateurish,” that hasn’t resulted in change.

The lack of response to negative feedback is partially explained by the strategic goal of these communications: to appeal to the frustrations of Trump’s deeply disaffected political base, which seems to revel in the White House social media style.

Scholars identify a large number of these voters as “the precariat,” a group whose once-stable, union-protected jobs have been outsourced or replaced with low-wage, insecure service work. These workers, many former Democrats, can no longer count on a regular paycheck, benefits or work they can identify with.

As a result, they are more likely to support political candidates whom they believe will respond to their economic instability.

In addition, many of these voters blame a breakdown in what they perceive as the racial pecking order for a loss of social status, especially when compared with more highly educated workers. Many of these workers distrust the media and other elite institutions they feel have failed them. Research shows that they are highly receptive to messages that confirm their grievances and that many regard Trump as their champion.

Trump and the White House social media play to this audience.

On social media, the president is free to violate norms that anger his critics but have little effect on his supporters, who view the current political system as flawed. One example: A White House Valentine’s Day communication that said “Roses are red, violets are blue, come here illegally, and we’ll deport you.”

In addition, Trump and the White House social media use the president’s status as a celebrity, coupled with comedy and spectacle, to immunize the administration from fallout, even among some of its critics.

Trump’s exaggerated gestures, over-the-top language, his lampooning of opponents and his use of caricature to ridicule whole categories of people – including Democrats, the disabled, Muslims, Mexicans and women – is read by his political base as a playful and entertaining take down of political correctness. It may form a sturdy pillar of his support.

But prioritizing entertainment over facts has long-term significance.

Trump’s communication strategies are already setting a global precedent, encouraging other politicians to adopt similar theatrical and polarizing tactics that distort or deny facts.

These methods may energize some audiences but risk alienating others. Informed political engagement is reduced, and democratic backsliding is increasingly a reality.

Although the communication style of the White House is playful and irreverent, it has a serious goal: the diffusion of ideological messages whose intent is to create a sense of strength and righteousness among its supporters.

In simple terms, this is propaganda designed to persuade citizens that the government is strong, its enemies evil and that fellow citizens – “real Americans” – think the same way.

Scholars observe that the White House projection of the often comical images of authority echoes the visual style of authoritarian governments. Both seek to be seen as in control of the social and political order and thereby to discourage dissent.

The chief difference between the two is that in a deeply polarized democracy such as the U.S., citizens interpret these displays of authority in sharply different ways: They build opposition among Trump opponents but support among supporters.

The rising intolerance that results erodes social cohesion, undermines support for democratic norms and weakens trust in institutions. And that opens the door to democratic backsliding.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. King, pope, Jedi, Superman: Trump’s social media images exclusively target his base and try to blur political reality – https://theconversation.com/king-pope-jedi-superman-trumps-social-media-images-exclusively-target-his-base-and-try-to-blur-political-reality-259950

October 21, 2025

Chinese car firm BYD is racing ahead with its electric vehicles. Here’s how more established brands can catch up

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Pietro Micheli, Professor of Business Performance and Innovation, Warwick Business School, University of Warwick

Electric cars made by the Chinese car firm BYD are now a familiar sight on British roads. In September 2025, the company sold 11,271 vehicles in the UK – ten times as many as in the same month last year.

This level of growth means the UK is now BYD’s largest market outside of China. In an industry once dominated by long established brands, the company has become the biggest manufacturer of electric vehicles in the world. So how have they done it?

Generous subsidies from the Chinese government have certainly played a role, but BYD also appears to be a smoothly run operation which could end up revolutionising the automotive industry.

For example, it has secured the supply of the critical materials such as lithium and tungsten used to build electric vehicles and produces its own batteries, reducing reliance on external suppliers.

It has built large-scale gigafactories and industrial parks, and investments in research and development, especially in relation to batteries, have been very effective.

Another key factor is the company’s aggressive pricing strategy. A BYD Dolphin Surf for example, costs £18,650 in the UK – less than half the price of the entry level Tesla, the Model 3, which begins at around £39,000.

Older and more established car manufacturers will be painfully aware of BYD’s swift ascent towards the top of the electric vehicle market. And research I worked on with colleagues into how major companies react to new rivals suggests why some of them are being left behind.

Many make the mistake of ignoring customers’ needs and rely on past success to the extent that they become over confident. Others just seem to lack foresight.

In the car industry specifically, I have seen a variety of market forecasts and technology roadmaps – generated by both companies and industry associations – and been struck by some common themes.

To begin with, they are often linear – inevitably predicting that the speed, features and performance of cars will all gradually improve over time. But technological innovations often appear in leaps and bounds, and depend on a vast network of suppliers to implement, which makes development complex.

They also frequently show a surprising neglect for customers’ desires and fears – and budgets. The price of new cars has increased dramatically over the past two decades, outpacing growth in salaries. Yet many companies, such as Jaguar and Tesla, appear to be focused only on “premium vehicles” for wealthy customers, and will eventually end up competing for a small market.

Car companies also suffer in a similar way to big firms in other sectors (think Blackberry or Nokia), where there is often a clear lack of humility and awareness from many senior executives. As studies have shown, bosses who see their organisations as innovative and flexible are often at odds with more junior employees who view them as stale and slow.

For the high jump?

The need for industry-wide change reminds me of how athletes competing in the high jump evolved over the years. Many techniques were tried and tested, including the “scissors”, the “straddle” and the Fosbury flop, which was eventually deemed the most effective.

Some established car companies are desperately trying to hang onto their equivalent of the straddle jump (petrol and diesel cars), and avoiding a commitment to learning the Fosbury flop (developing electric vehicles).

Because of this, the days of established car companies leading the way seem to be over. Hoping to make decent profits from old models and creating electric vehicles only for the wealthy is a delusional strategy.

So what could established carmakers do?

Male high jumper. — Catching up.
Real Sports Photos/Shutterstock

One option is to change the way they work with suppliers. The usual approach here is transactional and price based, with a carmaker buying components (seats or mirrors, for example) from a supplier but switching if it finds a cheaper deal. The problem is that innovation (and indeed supply chain resilience, as the microchip shortage shows) requires supplier and buyer to jointly invest in future developments. The transactional approach does not allow for this.

Second, they should develop new capabilities, not only in relation to batteries but also to other technologies. It is indicative that BYD wants to be predominantly known as a “technology company” whose ultra-fast charging system promises to be well ahead of its competitors.

Could VW, Toyota and BMW become technology companies? Probably not, but they could be part of a network of firms, including technology and AI ones, that would allow them to benefit from the latest developments in those fields.

Third, carmakers need to focus more on addressing customer needs. Besides understanding and improving their experiences as drivers and passengers, they could work more closely with local authorities and infrastructure providers as most users’ issues – and hesitation – about electric vehicles are related to the ability to charge them up.

These changes are substantial, but achievable, as long as carmakers are prepared to take a more open and collaborative approach to the road ahead.

Pietro Micheli does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Chinese car firm BYD is racing ahead with its electric vehicles. Here’s how more established brands can catch up – https://theconversation.com/chinese-car-firm-byd-is-racing-ahead-with-its-electric-vehicles-heres-how-more-established-brands-can-catch-up-267028

October 21, 2025

I tried out a new version of Minecraft to see why environmental storylines help children learn

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Elliot Honeybun-Arnolda, Senior Research Associate, Environmental Sciences, University of East Anglia

A new version of Minecraft aims to teach students about coastal erosion, flood resilience and climate adaptation, and shows how children can use computer games to learn about complex situations.

CoastCraft is a new custom world from the educational arm of the Minecraft team that can be downloaded and added to the game. It is set in the seaside town of Bude, Cornwall, and players attempt to protect the coastal landscape from the various effects associated with sea-level rises and climate change. The game takes about an hour or two to complete.

Bude is experiencing increasing coastal erosion and the project was developed in conjunction with the UK Environmental Agency and Cornwall Council as part of a £200 million flood and coastal erosion innovation programme.

In the game, students use animations to help them understand coastal erosion and rising sea levels before being able to explore and engage with a range of coastal management strategies (including relocating key infrastructure, using nature-based solutions such as plants, or potentially doing nothing at all).

I played the game for a few hours and found that the mechanics of Minecraft lent themselves very well to understanding the principles of environmental management.

If you do a bad job, the sea encroaches on the terrain and certain infrastructure is lost (for instance, a car park or toilets). These dynamics add to the immersive experience of the game. They also really nail the realities of future climate change in a way that is potentially far more relevant and digestible than scientific models and projections.

In making the decisions, you get to move around the map to chat with key people about the potential impact of going ahead with a decision and any other factors. You are limited by how much you can spend. Some decisions, like relocating the lifeguard hut, are very expensive (costing 75% of your total funds), while nature-based management, such as sand dune protection, costs nothing. Through this players are actively introduced to decision-making and the implications of their actions.

Throughout the game, there is a major emphasis on balancing the economic, social and environmental impact. You are able to fast-forward to 2040 and then again to 2060 to see what your decision-making looks like down the line.

After each round, you are sent back to a roundtable of NPCs (non-playing characters) who scrutinise your decisions before revealing a sustainability score on how well you managed to reconcile the competing economic, societal and environmental demands. Once you have finished the game, you can return to the main base and also chat to NPCs about different careers in coastal management.

At the University of East Anglia my team ran a series of workshops with staff and students from different disciplines to help establish what and how climate change should be taught (see figure below).

We suggest that teachers should try to include a range of skills into their curriculum design and planning (see image above) to help students understand the multiple ways in which the challenges of climate change can be managed. CoastCraft is an excellent example of this.

In this game students are in an immersive, digital experience that not only provides basic scientific knowledge but also introduces the idea that choices around environmental management have multiple outcomes that need to be anticipated. It shows that the balance between the environment, economy and society is a fragile one needing attention. Research found involving students in role-playing activities (in that case a pretend climate summit) could help them to understand the realities and politics of decision-making.

Making decisions

In CoastCraft, the experience of getting students to actively engage with decisions and trade-offs, deciding what forms of expertise to listen to or base decisions on, and then getting to witness how decisions affect the future can also be important in helping students understand the politics and challenges of local climate change adaptation.

Games can be used as a teaching method to convey complex environmental stories and immerse students in situations they may not otherwise have access to.

A tidal pool in Bude, Cornwall. — Bude in Cornwall is experiencing increasing coastal erosion.
Chris276644/Shutterstock

Recently, educational charity Students Organising for Sustainability found that only 22% of respondents felt that children and young people were prepared for climate change through their education. Anecdotally, I’ve had multiple students tell me that they want to learn about how to help solve the problem of climate and sustainability, not simply find out about why it is happening.

CoastCraft has managed to capture the politics of coastal management in an immersive experience. This is an impressive achievement, showing gameplay can be relevant and educational and still fun.

Don’t have time to read about climate change as much as you’d like?

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Elliot Honeybun-Arnolda receives funding from Natural England for work associated with the Public Engagement Laboratory for Nature and Society.

– ref. I tried out a new version of Minecraft to see why environmental storylines help children learn – https://theconversation.com/i-tried-out-a-new-version-of-minecraft-to-see-why-environmental-storylines-help-children-learn-267161

October 21, 2025

Kent County Council is Reform’s ‘shop window’ – its leaked Zoom call implies chaos and poor leadership

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Lisa Lazard, Professor in Psychology, The Open University

A leaked video of an online meeting between members of the Reform-led Kent county council showed shocking exchanges. There was shouting, swearing and repeated interruptions. At one point, council leader Linden Kemkaran mutes another member of the council.

Councillors Paul Thomas, Oliver Bradshaw, Bill Barret and Maxine Fothergrill have been suspended pending an investigation over their conduct. Reform has, at the same time, defended the aggressive exchanges on the call as evidence of robust argument and a sign that Kent councillors are taking their responsibilities seriously.

Kent county council has 50 Reform members, giving it a huge majority. Kent has therefore been seen as a test case for whether Reform can run administrations. Kemkaran makes this explicit during the leaked call, reminding fellow council members that party leader Nigel Farage sees their council as “the flagship council” and a “shop window” for how Reform operates councils.

But as a psychologist who studies power, interaction and online meeting dynamics, I see the Reform meeting as a case study in something else – poor leadership, a lack of team trust and collaboration. It suggests an absence of the psychological safety needed to effectively run a council or any other organisation.

During the meeting in question, Kemkaran defended her style by saying: “Because I am not a dictator or an autocrat … I like to hear what everybody thinks. However, when it comes to making the really big decisions … sometimes I will make a decision that might not be liked by everybody in the group but I’m afraid you’re just going to have to fucking suck it up, ok?”

The use of the word “however” here is telling. It is a conversational tactic that claims to value the contributions of others but then immediately signals that ultimate control resides with the chair.

This is an especially corrosive type of chairing that is associated with trying to wield power over others. It gives the appearance of open input while preserving hierarchy and dominance. The result is disillusionment, disengagement and conflict rather than genuine contribution.

As the chair and councillors clashed, the council meeting descended into shouting, repeated interruptions and eventually a councillor’s voice literally being cut off with the mute button.

Several council members have been suspended over the leaked call.

When we use platforms like Zoom, various technological tools enable us to improve digital meetings. We can manage processes and protect people from disruption when they are speaking. But in the Kent meeting, the mute function was used as a power move – to silence a dissenting voice, reinforce control and prevent dialogue.

Both Kemkaran and Thomas noted on the call that “it would’ve been easier [to meet] in person.” But in organisations, toxic practices rarely start online, they just get expressed there.

We don’t yet know what the four suspended councillors are being investigated for but if a team culture is built on dominance, control, disrespect or authoritarianism, the online meeting becomes a amplifier of existing issues.

Gendered leadership styles and unexpected flips

The more problematic chairing styles that can be seen in the council meeting – directive, punitive, controlling – share some similarities with stereotypical masculine models of leadership: high dominance, low collaboration, controlling decision‐making.

Research has also shown how these ideas about gendered leadership play out in how we understand women’s leadership, which is often seen to be more aligned with participative or democratic styles.

This matters because here we have Kemkaran, a woman chair who adopted a highly directive and controlling style. She is visibly adopting (and perhaps over‑compensating into) a style traditionally associated with masculine dominance.

That flip is significant: the “strong leadership” script (loudness, command, the ability to shout down dissent) remains coded as masculine. When someone (especially a woman) inhabits that script badly, it encourages not only internal discord but more negative social judgement.

Our research on gender equitable interactions online suggests productive meetings are associated with assertiveness without aggression or abuse. Disagreement should be managed with respect and structure, rather than shouting or controlling interruptions.

Functional organisations generally also make it clear that there is zero tolerance for disrespect: behaviour such as swearing, interrupting, silencing via tech or chair prerogative should be flagged, addressed and prevented. This is the case regardless of the participants’ rank.

Leaders who switch between directive clarity (setting the agenda, managing time, making decisions) and genuine participatory engagement (inviting dissent, structuring inclusion) rather than defaulting to dominance or passivity generally seem to preside over better meetings.

These are not “soft skills”, they are essential leadership competencies. When they’re missing, you get what we saw in Kent – high levels of conflict rather than collaboration.

How people run their meetings matters to organisational trust, public reputation and internal performance. When chairs use aggression and dominance under the guise of “strong leadership”, they erode trust, invite conflict, diminish performance.

The signal to those they work with is that power is more important than values. Little wonder, then, that councillors became so visibly concerned with how the chaos they were descending into would reflect poorly on Reform’s reputation now that it controls so many councils in England.

Controlling dissent by weaponising technological meeting features like the mute function are not signs of strength. They are signals of failure.

Lisa Lazard receives funding from CHANSE – Collaboration of Humanities and Social Sciences in Europe.

– ref. Kent County Council is Reform’s ‘shop window’ – its leaked Zoom call implies chaos and poor leadership – https://theconversation.com/kent-county-council-is-reforms-shop-window-its-leaked-zoom-call-implies-chaos-and-poor-leadership-267900

October 21, 2025

Scary stories for kids: these tales of terror made me a hit at sleepovers as a pre-teen

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Christina Morin, Professor in School of English Irish & Communication, University of Limerick

One of Stephen Gammell’s original illustrations for Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. Stephen Gammell

Seeing the cover of Alvin Schwartz’s Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (1981) has a powerfully Proustian effect on me: my stomach drops a little bit and a shiver of twinned fear and delight runs down my spine, even now, some 35 or so years after I first encountered it as a precocious pre-teen. At the time, I was a voracious and omnivorous reader with an appetite for books that my parents fully encouraged.

My tastes were wide and varied: some of my favourite books from this period included L. M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables series, the Sweet Valley High and The Baby-Sitters Club books. There was also the occasional Agatha Christie crime novel and something from R.L. Stine’s Goosebumps series. The latter two arguably introduced me to that delicious thrill of being frightened by what I read and inspired me to seek out other works with a similar “scare factor”.

I remember buying Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark from the annual scholastic book fair – the highlight of the American elementary school calendar, as far as I was concerned. Schwartz’s collection of tales included 29 stories drawn from diverse sources, from folklore to urban legends to personal interviews.

This article is part of a series of expert recommendations of spooky stories – on screen and in print – for brave young souls. From the surprisingly dark depths of Watership Down to Tim Burton’s delightfully eerie kid-friendly films, there’s a whole haunted world out there just waiting for kids to explore. Dare to dive in here.

They’re short, simply told, and often interactive, instructing young readers to pause, or jump, or scream at specific moments while retelling the stories to their friends. Some of my favourite tales are actually songs, like “Old Woman All Skin and Bone” and “The Hearse Song”, which are accompanied by bars of music and are based on traditional folk songs from Britain and the US.

The stories do deal in some disturbing ideas and imagery, including, for example, dead bodies, the occasional decapitated head or body part and a number of ghosts. However, they are narrated in such a succinct and matter-of-fact manner that the horror associated with the subject matter is effectively mitigated.

Tellingly, ghosts and dead bodies are often met with humour, as in the final six tales of the collection. There is also an emphasis on the dangers of superstition, as in the story “The Girl Who Stood on a Grave”. In it, a young girl accepts a dare to stand on a grave, rejecting her friends’ belief that to do so will mean she’ll be grabbed by the dead person inside.

As she enters the cemetery, she agrees to stab a knife into the ground to prove to her friends that she has done it, but she never returns. Her friends later find her lying on top of the grave, dead from fright having unwittingly pinned her skirt to the ground with the knife and believing she had, in fact, been seized by a cadaver.

The images that accompanied these tales – drawn by illustrator Stephen Gammell – were fabulously gruesome. They heightened the effect of the tales and ensured a suitably scary reading experience. Later editions replaced these images with gentler, alternative illustrations by Brett Helquist – much to the consternation and dismay of earlier readers.

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark has had a long lasting cultural impact and was adapted to film in 2019, to general, critical and popular acclaim.

Despite its fans, Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark and subsequent collections have not been without controversy. Marketed to young adult readers – among whom they have proven enduringly popular – they have invited fervent and sustained criticism from concerned parents and teachers about their suitability for young readers. Several US schools and libraries have accordingly banned the stories.

My experience of them, however, was an exceptionally positive one: yes, they were occasionally scary, but they were also fun. They were stories to be enjoyed under the covers with a flashlight for best effect, later to be recounted in gory detail to friends at sleepovers.

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark offers tales that speak to a common human experience, one that brings us to cinemas to sit on the edges of our seats while we peer at the screen through our fingers: the enjoyment to be had from being scared, safe in the knowledge that we ourselves are not in any immediate danger. As Schwartz himself wrote in his preface to the collection: “Telling scary stories is something people have done for thousands of years, for most of us like being scared in that way. Since there isn’t any danger, we think it is fun.”

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark is suitable for children aged 10 to 12, or possibly mature younger readers.

This article features references to books that have been included for editorial reasons, and may contain links to bookshop.org. If you click on one of the links and go on to buy something from bookshop.org The Conversation UK may earn a commission.

Looking for something good? Cut through the noise with a carefully curated selection of the latest releases, live events and exhibitions, straight to your inbox every fortnight, on Fridays. Sign up here.

Christina Morin does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Scary stories for kids: these tales of terror made me a hit at sleepovers as a pre-teen – https://theconversation.com/scary-stories-for-kids-these-tales-of-terror-made-me-a-hit-at-sleepovers-as-a-pre-teen-267783

October 21, 2025

The Netherlands is trying to draw a line under a year of chaos with fresh elections – will it work?

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Léonie de Jonge, Professor of Research on Far-Right Extremism, Institute for Research on Far-Right Extremism (IRex), University of Tübingen

Dutch voters are to elect a new parliament for the third time in just five years on October 29. Prime Minister Dick Schoof called a snap election following the collapse of his cabinet in June, just 11 months after it was sworn in.

The immediate trigger was the withdrawal of Geert Wilders’s far-right Party for Freedom (PVV) from the governing coalition. The PVV quit after coalition partners rejected its controversial ten-point plan on migration, which included using the army to secure borders and turning back all asylum seekers.

The Schoof government continued in a caretaker capacity, made up of the remaining three coalition parties: the liberal-conservative People’s Party for Freedom and Democracy (VVD), the newcomer Christian-democratic New Social Contract (NSC), and the agrarian populist Farmer–Citizen Movement (BBB).

However, on August 22, the caretaker government unravelled when NSC foreign affairs minister Caspar Veldkamp resigned over internal disagreements about policy toward Israel. His departure prompted the entire NSC delegation to step down, triggering the second cabinet collapse in as many months.

To understand the current political turmoil, we have to go back to the formation of the Schoof cabinet following the election of November 2023. That resulted in a landslide victory for Wilders’ PVV, paving the way for the most rightwing government in Dutch post-war history.

After months of tense and protracted negotiations, all four coalition party leaders, including Wilders, opted against taking the prime minister role themselves. Instead, they appointed Dick Schoof, a civil servant and former intelligence chief, as prime minister. This unusual “one-foot-in, one-foot-out” arrangement allowed Wilders to exert significant influence over policy without assuming executive responsibility – an unprecedented level of access to power for the far right.

Parliamentary debates soon reflected this shift, with previously fringe ideas like “remigration” and “omvolking” (akin to the great replacement conspiracy) being openly discussed.

The four-party structure was inherently fragile. Deep ideological divisions meant the coalition stumbled from one crisis to another. The inexperience of the cabinet members and the unpredictability of the PVV only made this situation more volatile.

Legislatively, the cabinet achieved little during its 11 months in office, leaving key structural problems such as housing shortages unresolved. Meanwhile, the coalition attempted to bypass parliamentary checks to push through its immigration proposals.

The overall result of a year of chaos: the erosion of democratic norms and principles, and the rapid normalisation of far right ideas.

A gravitational shift to the right

For the past 50 years, rightwing parties such as the VVD, the Christian-democratic CDA and the far-right PVV have consistently outnumbered their leftwing counterparts in Dutch politics – a trend that runs counter to the popular image of the Netherlands as a progressive beacon.

On average, rightwing parties have held around half of the 150 parliamentary seats. This gives them an advantage once votes are counted since they can often form coalitions among themselves. Leftwing parties generally have to seek coalition partners beyond their own bloc.

This pattern is largely driven by voter behaviour. Most voters stay within their ideological lane, switching only between parties on the same side of the spectrum. The only party that regularly attracts support from both sides is the centrist-progressive D66.

Since 2021, a third bloc has emerged: the far right, led by Wilders’ PVV and including the extreme-right Forum for Democracy (FvD) and the FvD-splinter party JA21. This bloc appears to have permanently shifted the political centre of gravity to the right.

As in 2023, the far right is set to play a major role in the 2025 election. Despite a turbulent year in government, the PVV continues to lead the polls. Voters appear undeterred by the party’s failure to govern effectively. This time, Wilders has explicitly said he wants to be the prime minister.

But Wilders isn’t the far right’s only contender. JA21 presents itself as a more “reasonable” alternative on the right, while FvD has undergone a key leadership change: controversial founder Thierry Baudet has handed over the reins to Lidewij de Vos. This move that reflects a broader far-right trend of using female leadership to soften the party’s image.

The centre-right camp, meanwhile, is in flux. The VVD has been slipping in the polls. At the same time, party leader Dilan Yeşilgöz has ruled out further partnerships with Wilders and signalled scepticism towards cooperation with the GreenLeft–Labour alliance. These positions have narrowed the VVD’s coalition prospects and raised questions about the party’s strategy.

The NSC is in free fall. After winning 20 seats from scratch in its 2023 debut, the party now appears likely to secure at most one seat – or potentially none at all. In contrast, the long-struggling CDA is staging a surprising comeback.

Following a historic low of just five seats in 2023, the party is now polling at 22 to 26 seats. This surge has been attributed to the so-called “Bontenbal effect,” named after the party’s popular leader, Henri Bontenbal.

The main contender on the left is the GreenLeft–Labour alliance, led by former European Commissioner Frans Timmermans, which is currently polling in third place behind the PVV and CDA. But the broader picture remains unchanged: the left is a structural minority, facing long odds of governing without support from the centre-right.

Finally, after significant losses in 2023, D66 appears to be recovering. Now polling between 11 and 14 seats, the party may once again play a pivotal role in coalition talks, potentially bridging the centre-left and centre-right blocs.

An uncertain outcome

No fewer than 27 parties are running in this election, and in a political landscape that has become notoriously fragmented and volatile, many voters make their final decisions only at the last minute.

With many medium-sized and smaller parties in the mix, and the PVV effectively barred from government participation, it is difficult to envision what a viable coalition might look like – so protracted coalition talks after election day are likely.

But beyond this uncertainty, the stakes for Dutch democracy are unusually high. The Netherlands has seen an alarmingly rapid normalisation of far-right rhetoric. This election may prove more than just another chapter in political instability, but a defining moment for the country’s democratic future.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. The Netherlands is trying to draw a line under a year of chaos with fresh elections – will it work? – https://theconversation.com/the-netherlands-is-trying-to-draw-a-line-under-a-year-of-chaos-with-fresh-elections-will-it-work-267076